


We've Faced Worse

by blitzturtles



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 10:04:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6280207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blitzturtles/pseuds/blitzturtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's a good way to warm up," Han says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We've Faced Worse

The cold air is biting against his skin. Luke reaches up with gloved hands to pull his hood tighter in an effort to reduce the pain that he feels every time wind so much as brushes against his face. His legs are weak, but he keeps moving. The Falcon isn't too far. Han trudges in the snow beside him, only a foot or so away. He looks to be doing better than Luke.

At this rate, Luke can't help but think, the snow isn't winning his favor any more than the sand ever had. This is the second time he might find himself freezing nearly to death. No one ever speaks of how the cold burns. The wind feels like a sharp slap. The only relief that he feels is the numbness in his fingers and toes. He knows that the loss of sensation is a concern, but he can't bring himself to care.

"Almost there, kid!" Han calls. His voice is barely audible despite the small distance between them.

Luke tries to shoot him an optimistic look, but he fails horribly. He can only hope that the Falcon is warmer. Judging by the conditions, they won't be getting off of this planet any time soon. There only option is to take shelter in the Falcon until the worst of it passes.

His feet keep dragging. Han gets mysteriously closer, brushing his arm against Luke's on occasion.

They both yell out excitedly the moment the ship comes into view. Luke thinks about how he would kiss the outer shell if he didn't think his mouth would freeze to its surface. Han looks as though he might be thinking the same thing.

The door opens immediately. They both rush up the ramp as quickly as possible. Chewie is there in an instant, growling and complaining about their speed. Once they're all safely on board, Chewie closes the hatch.

Much to both of their disappointment, the ship isn't particularly warm. She's not nearly as cold as the storm that beats down around her, so Luke supposes he should be grateful. He watches Han follow after Chewie. Han speaks quietly while Luke is able to catch Chewie's half of the conversation. The exasperated sounds that come from the co-pilot are enough to make Luke smile, though it makes his face ache in the worst way.

Han makes his way back to Luke. He grabs the younger's gloved hand with his own to lead him back to the bunks. "Furball there is going to keep watch for any sign of this letting up while we try to warm up," he explains.

Luke laughs softly at the nickname, knowing full well that Han is irritated because he worries for his friend. Luke decides it's better to not point out that, of the three of them, Chewie is far more equipped to deal with the cold. Instead, he's happy to keep his mouth closed and let Han lead him.

Their jackets are shed quickly. The snow is already seeping in through the thickness of them, making them useless in retaining body heat. Boots and gloves go next. Reluctance hits at the idea of shedding anything else. The almost assured loss of any remaining body warmth leaves both lingering.

"We've faced worse," Han says as a means to encourage Luke. His own tone is less than successful in reflecting his words.

Luke is torn between laughing and whining. Finally, he undoes his pants, flicking a wrist in Han's direction to use the Force to do the same. Han makes a surprised sound that has Luke laughing. He struggles for a moment with his top because of his own laughter. His fingers and toes are beginning to hurt now. He can't say he's missed feeling them.

In one, fluid motion, he dives under the pile of blankets that Chewie had apparently collected for them. Han slides in next to him a second later, earning a small squeak from Luke in the process. The man's skin is almost as freezing as the outside, which is a sharp contrast to the portable heater Luke has grown used to.

Han works quickly to pull the blankets tight around them. He rearranges both of their bodies so that Luke is settled in his lap. Luke wraps his legs around Han, nuzzling his nose against the man's neck.

"Kriff, kid," Han breathes. His arms wrap around Luke tightly in an effort to help create some body heat. Several minutes pass with seemingly no improvement before Han apparently gets an idea in his head. He gently pries Luke's face from his neck to make the younger look him in the eyes.

Han smirks at the bright eyes that meet his. Luke's face is still red and pink. He doesn't like it when _he_ isn't the one responsible, which means he has some work to do. He pressed a kiss against Luke's lips.

The next kiss is almost as bruising as the first. Luke groans against Han's lips. He squirms in Han's lap without quite realizing it until Han has to pull apart to suck in a shaky breath. Luke figures out why a few seconds later and feels his cheeks heat up.

"It's a good way to warm up," Han says as a means to both verbalize the idea and ask for Luke's approval.

Luke nods. This time, when he moves on Han's lap, he does it intentionally. The responding shudder makes him grin. Han isn't the only one that gets to tease. Then, merely because he can't stand the idea of moving away from the little bit of heat they've managed to gather, he uses the Force to grab the lube that they keep hidden under the bunk. It's frivolous to waste his energies in such a way, but he justifies it in his head, figuring he would have spent as much energy getting up.

Han presses a small kiss to his lips as a silent 'thank you'. He takes the bottle, making quick work of it. His fingers are still cold, which makes him hiss as he coats himself.

He wipes the excess on the blankets surrounding them, figuring it won't make much of a difference. Then, carefully, he uses his hands to help steady Luke. They move slowly at first. Luke's hands move to grip Han's shoulders. His fingernails dig into the pilot's skin. Han keeps his grip on Luke's hips tight, wanting to keep things slow until he knows Luke is comfortable. It's difficult, but kriff, the sounds Luke makes in the meantime are worth it.

They both work to carefully lower Luke onto Han's cock. His forehead rests against Han's shoulder. They stay like that for several, long seconds with Han's cock buried deep. Luke finally gives a small nod after blowing out a long breath.

Han rocks his hips slowly. His fingers grip tight. It takes all of his self control to keep from rearranging them, pressing Luke against the mattress and fucking into him roughly. Instead, he pulls Luke closer to himself. His hands move from Luke's hips. One wraps around the younger's waist, pulling him closer, while the other moves to Luke's ass.

The sounds Luke makes are nothing short of obscene. He doesn't seem capable of biting any of it back as he usually does.

Han manages to get Luke to look up long enough to steal a kiss. When they break for air, Luke looks up at him with blue eyes that are blown wide. Maker, Han nearly loses it at the sight of him. At how easy it is to take Luke apart, to make one of the most powerful men in the galaxy gasp and whine so shamelessly.

His thrusts become more sporadic. He knows they're both close to the edge. He can feel Luke's hand reaching down between them to stroke himself. It's all it takes to send Luke over the edge. He shudders against Han. He can barely hold himself upright. And Maker, he's still as persistent as ever. He grinds down against Han. Once he can remember how to breathe again, Luke begins to kiss a line down Han's jaw to his neck. He bites and sucks on Han's collar. The pilot comes with a string of curses. It's a solid minute before he can remember how his limbs are supposed to work. He carefully shifts the two of them so they're curled on their sides. The blankets are pulled close. He can feel a difference in Luke's skin. It's warmer. Pinker.

"You're gonna be the death of me, kid," he whispers, grinning a bit when Luke ducks his head out of embarrassment.

Chewie doesn't bother them until a few hours later when the storm has passed enough that he could use Han's help getting them off of the planet before another hits.


End file.
